


You Make Me Feel Like I'm Not Good Enough

by allthatjaz



Category: ALL OUT!! - Amase Shiori (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthatjaz/pseuds/allthatjaz
Summary: 'You make me feel like I’m not good enough is now you make me feel like I could be good enough, and that’s heartbreaking. It’s worse. Because now, instead of just chugging along, trying their best, going as far as they could manage… They could actually be good. They could go far. And Matsuo can’t go with them.'
Relationships: Ebumi Masaru/Matsuo Toshinosuke, Matsuo Toshinosuke & Sekizan Takuya
Kudos: 13





	You Make Me Feel Like I'm Not Good Enough

It’s the way they look at him. The way they treat him. The way they speak to him.

It’s judgement he doesn’t deserve, an unfairness which is becoming heavy. He tries and he tries. But it’s never enough. It’s never right.

He knows he’s not a natural. It’s the most obvious thing in the world. He stumbles, he drops easy catches, he mixes up plays.

But he’s new at this. He’s trying, he’s learning, he’s growing. Bit by bit, he thinks he might end up enjoying it.

So the upperclassmen pretending to understand is the most terrible thing. Because they don’t, he can hear it in their careless laughter. They don’t care, and they don’t get why he does.

_“You make me feel like I’m not good enough.”_ He doesn’t say to them. Over and over again.

He wishes he was. One day he might just be good enough.

*****

It’s red hair and lightning eyes. It’s a face squeezed with joy at a well done play. It’s pointy teeth and endless pranks. It’s contentment. Seen from afar. He wants to chase after it.

They practice endlessly. Teaching themselves behind the third years’ backs. Ignoring the pain, and the rain, they go till their edges split.

He’s in awe, both drawn towards it and pushed away. _How do you join in with something like that?_ It seems like you can only have it by being there from the start. And he hasn’t. He’s been a spectator. A longing gaze from the sideline. A poor throw. A dropped ball. A source of frustration instead of excitement.

It’s _you make me feel like I’m not good enough_ but without meaning to. It’s just someone trying harder and doing better than you at the same thing. It’s a wish that you’d make yourself do the same.

He’s not good enough for them. _Not yet._

*****

Another year of expected turmoil turns into something great. They gather around him, now the ones in awe.

“That play!” They say.

“That was amazing! You’re amazing!”

“Come practice with us? Come teach us that!”

He treasures it. The way they push and push each other. Congratulating on the small and big, nothing ignored. They make each other feel good enough.

He’s good enough, for them, for now. He’s content.

*****

Ebumi’s a ball of fury without a target. He’s flashy and loud, dominating. Being close to him is like asking to be drowned.

Taku knows he’ll be fast, says he’ll be worth it once tamed. Mutsumi sees his enthusiasm and is willing to work with whatever else surfaces along with it. But the third years can’t deal with him, can’t intimidate him, can’t stand him. So he’s ignored. Left off the field. Left to boil over. Underestimated like all the rest.

Matsuo can’t believe you’d want to tame him in any way. Can’t believe you’d only want to put up with him. Can’t believe you’d ignore something so bright. Can’t believe no one else pays it attention, that soft little flame inside Ebumi. The one that blows up into wildfire whenever challenged, but is otherwise clutched to his chest.

The world has been smothering him, taking any chance to blow him out. The fact that he still blazes is breathtaking. As though gasoline and matchstick, they’re tossed towards each other, and Matsuo doesn’t resist catching alight.

The attitude Ebumi has built to defy the world seems made up of _you make me feel like I’m not good enough_ s. Every one he’s ever felt, been given, or told. But he wears them as something different. He wears them to show you how you’re wrong. They’re defiant fuck yous. His badges of pride.

He’s vicious and brutish. Obsessive, obnoxious. More willing to snap than bend. Tough but not without his cracks. To knock him down is to have him get back up again. He’s the most beautiful thing. And dangerously addictive. Matsuo doesn’t do drugs, but he thinks Ebumi might be just like a hit.

It becomes a challenge they both seek. Like an inside joke they share. _When you’re made to feel like you’re not good enough, you keep going anyway._

Ebumi dares him to be good enough, and he can’t back down from that.

*****

Another year closes down and the third takes its place. He’s happy. He’s ready. Until his dad is on the ground and the emergency lights are giving him a headache and his chest won’t stop being so tight.

But it’s nothing to worry about. _Nothing._ He’s told to go live his dreams still. To not worry or be sorry. To have his own life. To keep on going with his ridiculous college plan even as his dad’s cough keeps them all up.

Training after school is an escape, and that makes him feel guilty. He’s needed at home, no matter how much his parents deny it. He’s needed by his little brother. He’s needed there, not here. Not here with Taku’s joy, or Mutsumi’s laughter, or Ebumi’s excited ya-has. Not here with these repetitive drills, these directionless plays, this exhaustion. This strange peace.

There’s new kids coming in and his place is going to slip away anyway. _Maybe this is meant to be… Maybe he should just let it end this way?_ But his promise to Taku is still a desire. His wordless one to Ebumi pounding at his insides whenever he dares to doubt.

He could still be good enough… Couldn’t he?

He turns up to be there, to keep up appearances. To pretend everything is okay. It’s easier to do that here than at home. But now it’s there again, it’s come back. _You make me feel like I’m not good enough._ This time he doesn’t know where it’s coming from. It’s just inside him.

*****

Coach turns up. Unasked for, unexpected. They’re unprepared. He makes them all feel like they’re not good enough. Standing on the pedestal of his success, he speaks from his experience. He knows he’s good enough. He’s shown the world. Matsuo doesn’t like him very much.

He’s rough at the edges but so full of the secrets they all dream of knowing. Nothing they can think of could compare to his reality. He’s the other end of their story. He’s been there, done that, and come home. They’re just at their beginnings, so graciously lost.

As he starts to share with them, they find the weight of being directionless disappearing. He points them to the path they’ve been searching for. To be lead instead of leading is freeing. It’s almost progress on its own.

So when they’re rasping for breath at the end of every elaborate practice, that thought sneaks in. _Maybe we will be good enough…_

*****

Maybe they are! Winning is unbelievable. It’s better than anything. Matsuo got lost in the game, gave it his all after so long trying not to care anymore.

Their plans actually worked outside of practice. Their skills have heightened. They can beat other teams! They can win! They’re getting better. They’re getting somewhere.

Coach is smiling, small and proud. Taku is speechless, blinking wide, laughing nervously. Mustumi is dumbfounded but has his arms around the guys, ruffling hair. Ebumi is something lit on fire, smoldering underneath the surface, pupils huge. It’s too much.

_You make me feel like I’m not good enough_ is now _you make me feel like I could be good enough_ , and that’s heartbreaking. It’s worse. Because now, instead of just chugging along, trying their best, going as far as they could manage… They could actually be good. _They could go far._ And Matsuo can’t go with them.

Improving is such a vicious reminder of reality. So unexpectedly double edged. He was proud of their progress before and that wasn’t fair. He was holding back and hiding. He shouldn’t be a part of this now. He’s not going all out. He isn’t needed here, he’s needed at home.

He has to say it. He has to turn away from these promises and keep a more realistic one. He has to let this all go. He has to break away before he can’t get out anymore. Before he gives himself one too many _just one more day_ s. Before he’s so deeply buried here he starts to grow.

But it’s agony just to imagine turning away from that unwavering strength and tender touch even to the opposing team. _Turning away from Taku._ Or giving up that bolt of speed across the field, madly clawing out success and yanking him close in the excitement. _Giving up Ebumi._

He dreads Taku and Ebumi no longer waiting for him once they know. That glow in their eyes going out. Heading away separately, without him, to find stronger dreams. He dreads the whole damn team standing in front of him and asking why he’s running from them _and not with them._

He can’t tell them. He can’t even say it to himself. He’s not good enough to do even that.

*****

It hurts so deep he thinks his heart must of shattered. The physical pain of heartache, growing deep and thick. He’s infested with it. There’s a tightness in his chest that won’t go away again.

They’re so confused, so worried. _So angry._ They deserve to know the truth but it’s easier if they hate him. That they despise the words he says, and in the end, despise him. Forget him. Move on from him. Hate is a weapon, and he’s wielding it on his friends.

They don’t truly believe it, of course. They wouldn’t. They know him. _How scary is that?_ They know him well enough now to see his bluff. That makes his heart rip even more. _They’re a team._

Mutsumi knows it’s bullshit, his eyes don’t look quite right when holding so much sorrow. Taku is thrown, hurting the loudest, filling up the room with his stunned silence. Kashima loathes the lies, disgusted at him for it. His face looks like he wants to spit.

The rest of them fit anywhere from betrayed to devastated to sympathetic. There’s guilt too, the starting of pity even. Desperation even makes an appearance. But confusion and disappointment are the main hosts of the party.

Matsuo leaves. He can’t stand it, he can’t stand himself. They don’t deserve this.

*****

And, Ebumi. _Oh, Ebumi._ He’s like a lost hound with a scent of home, mercilessly getting ever closer. He wasn’t in that chilly room with those concerned faces, but it feels as though he could have been. He almost knows without knowing.

There’s a reason Ebumi is good at what he plays in rugby. There’s a reason he’s who he is. He’s full of instinct, always finding those places to push. He runs at them knowing they’ll crumble. The looks he’s giving, the glares he’s piling on, are calculated. He knows something is fighting to get out, and he’s harassed by it. Irritated that he hasn’t already worked it all out. Acting as though he’s lost the upper hand to it in a fight.

And, like the others, he should know the truth, but Matsuo’s lost his strength for this war. He’s ready to just go home with his wounds. Telling Ebumi would be a second war itself. It’d blow everything up. It’d be a bad idea. It’d be a stupid idea, he’s giving up, he’s going to be what his family needs, he’s not going to keep playing, he’s fooling himself if-

*****

He tells Ebumi first. Or tries to. After their nightly run when they’re heaving, standing just a little too close but never yet close enough. He tries to let it all go before he can get his breath back and remember this would be the last thing his plan ever needs. But he can’t get it all off his tongue. It sticks and feels so heavy, the truth hurting too much to force out. To say it would change too much. Knock his denial off balance.

So he gives an abridged version, even though he knows Ebumi can clearly tell it’s not everything. But Ebumi doesn’t interrupt, unless it’s to call him on some supreme bullshit. It reminds Matsuo of the night back on that naive training camp at school. When coach had just turned up and they didn’t know what was coming yet. Of sitting out underneath the stars, with Ebumi proving him wrong about his comment of _“you don’t talk much, do you?”_

Ebumi had spilled himself that night, like a knocked over glass. He’d let Matsuo sneak in. Let Matsuo have a chance to listen. Maybe as just someone to unload on, but he’d placed some type of trust into Matsuo then. He still cradled that. They’d grown from it.

Now Ebumi was returning that. Letting him know that he heard. That no one was going anywhere till this was told. That he knew he was being given some secrets to hold. It was all in those eyes.

“You reckon we’d actually get anywhere without you?”

It’s not a question, it’s a dare. Ebumi daring him to even think about answering with anything but what he’s decided is the truth.

“Cause we wouldn’t. We wouldn’t achieve shit.”

Matsuo can’t help the bitter little laugh. It’s sweet but Ebumi is laying it on. Matsuo has been on the sidelines, he’s been watching them achieve without him.

The headbutt isn’t gentle but it doesn’t crack his skull either. There are pinpoints in his vision, a sting in his nose, and then Ebumi is back, mouth a snarl precariously close to his.

“How about you stop thinking this crap and just come with us? It’s your last year, fuck whatever happens! I don’t know how far we have to go, but I’ll be going to the top! And you better be there! You hear what I’m saying, huh? College or not, hell with all that. That’s later. We’re winning now. Don’t ruin it!”

“Ebumi. It’s not that simple.”

“Bullshit."

He sighs, arguing that won’t change anything. Ebumi is probably right anyway. He usually is with quick fire things. He’s also outside the problem. He can see more of it.

He ignores the hand clenching up in his shirt, ready to yank, or just opportunistic, and closes his eyes. He focuses on the biggest thought. “I don’t know how to tell them…”

Ebumi’s forehead lessens its pressure against his, but only slightly. “Just say it.”

Even with such a numbness in his chest, he scoffs. “Well, I hadn’t thought of that. Thanks.”

Ebumi drops back down to his heels and pushes him away. He snorts. “Go screw yourself then. Tell them. Don’t. All I know is Mutsumi’s always raving about how teams don’t work if teams don’t talk. And this team has to work to win. Fix your shit before it fucks us.”

He trudges off. Hands dug into his pockets, hood aggressively pulled up. Shoulders stiff, bracing, seeming to expect resistance from even the night.

Matsuo watches him go, stemming the tease of blood from his smarting nose. Hope digs its way out of the misery.

_Fuck. What happened to his plan?_

It wasn’t good enough to withstand Ebumi. They never really were…

*****

But he does it. He pulls out his phone the next evening after helping his parents with the garden stock and stares at Taku’s number. It’s a crushing feeling to have anxiety come from something that once only comforted.

He’s giving up because nothing seems right and then he remembers Ebumi’s face so close their noses are smashed together, hissing _‘bullshit’._

_Just say it._

**-I want to talk, Taku. Please-**

_SEND_ is the biggest thing in his life for a millisecond before he presses it and closes his eyes. The adrenaline doesn’t settle down.

When the reply comes back, he’s nearing a meltdown. _Maybe he hurt him too much?_ Maybe destroying your friend’s dream is something you don’t get to say sorry for.

**-Where?-**

_Oh, thank you, thank you._

It’s more than he feels he’s worth. He pulls on his shoes, hugs his parents when his request to go out is granted by tired smiles, ruffles his brother’s hair, and dashes out the door.

Maybe he’s good enough to fix his mistakes.

*****

The water fountain is not as calming as he hoped. It’s too loud, blocking out the sound of footsteps and the night feels so small around it. His hands shake as he hides them in his pockets. He’s finally stopped checking his phone.

He knows Taku will come. He doesn’t stand people up. He’s not the kind.

But he’s long enough to let the doubts grow like dense weeds. _Maybe explanations won’t be enough? Maybe it’s too late? Maybe excuses aren’t worth Taku’s time anymore? Maybe he can’t have his friend back?_ It’s all a constant ache that refuses to find rest or release.

Then, Taku _is_ there. And he’s not happy.

“Toshi.”

Matsuo breathes out some relief. _It’s still Toshi._

“What do you want? Don’t you realize we’ve got a match tomorrow?”

**_We._ **

He grimaces. _Shit._ Of course he knows they do. He’s wildly aware. He shouldn’t have waited so late to find his guts and do this. He looks away, even more ashamed. Now he’s messing up Taku’s routine.

Apparently him not responding is Taku’s chance to let him have it.

“I’m angry with you, you know!?”

_A question and a declaration._

“I’ve been mad ever since you acted up at training camp.”

_Shit._

“At first, I just thought you had something on your mind!”

_All the time these days._

“You never tell us anything!”

_That’s true._

You just go off on your own somewhere.”

_Because it’s easier._

“You never pay attention during practice.”

_It hurts too much._

“You don’t listen to anyone.”

_Nothing they say can fix it._

“Even the first and second years have noticed.”

_Funny how the world still watches you when you’ve forgotten about it._

“I’m fed up with your shitty attitude!”

He doesn’t mean for the tears to start but that one does it. He tries to laugh them off but Taku’s shock won’t allow it. He’s become speechless, and now Matsuo’s got to explain what he came here to explain.

He pulls himself together. For them both, for everything. Taku is patient enough but the news about his dad startles him. He’s grabbing his wrist, demanding why he wasn’t told. Matsuo doesn’t know. After all, friends tell each other these things. _Don’t they?_

He excuses it with a truth, that he really didn’t think it was too bad. The hospital stay had been short. Hope had been a blindfold. But then it feels like lying again. Cause there’s another reason. That he didn’t want to be felt sorry for. That he didn’t want to receive pity. He wasn’t good enough to accept it. He couldn’t handle it. It wouldn’t help, it wouldn’t change anything, so why open himself up to it?

He finally admits it. To himself. Outloud. Taku holds his arm, desperate to give him comfort, to give him strength. Heart on his sleeve, as always.

The tears start coming again, they don’t wait for the words he still has to say. But Taku does.

“I’m sorry. Taku, I’m so sorry.”

And Taku thinks that’s good enough.

*****

Winning this is delicious. It’s the sweetest thing Matsuo’s ever tasted. The taste of dreams finally caught.

Taku and Mutsumi are on him as soon as the siren goes. It’s a tame celebration. Nothing compared to what’s firing inside them. Nothing compared to what it will be later, in private. But they are still on the field and there’s still a place for rules. Even the unofficial ones. Everyone deserves their respect out here.

But their hearts all know what’s happened. _“We’re good enough, we are good enough, we’re good enough”_ , they say so loudly in their chests. _We made it. We reached it. Together._ They drown in laughter and tears. Their hugs fierce. Content.

Then he doesn’t even get through the first bow before Ebumi is against him. Something about winning stirs Ebumi up. Ruffles him in the most appealing way, shaking all that naked adrenaline to the top. He stinks of pleasure. Unbelievably smug. Unabashedly proud. Unbearably cocky. Standing out like he’s the only beacon lit. Unhinged in the most glorious way, roaring his intent with those eyes. Not caring for the consequences, not believing in them. Done running around this.

He tastes like a bush fire. Burning rough and reckless. Controlled only for a brief second before bursting away unrestrained again. Desperate and scorching. His pulse a searing ember under his flesh, his heart thrashing to get out. It’s like he’s trying to steal every last breath Matsuo will ever take again. It’s _finallyfinallyfinally._ It’s _howdoyoulikeusnow?_ It’s _takethat!_ It’s _fuckyoutoo._

It’s-

“We were good enough.”

Ebumi’s teeth bite into the kiss.

“Fuckin’ told you so.”

**Author's Note:**

> About 993 days ago the lovely [dahdah-rigeru](https://dahdah-rigeru.tumblr.com/) sent me this prompt over on [tumblr](https://jazthespazz.tumblr.com/post/189572851779/hiya-about-the-fanfic-prompt-can-i-have-40-for) . I'm still dearly sorry it took so long to see the light of day, life and my procrastination feat went and got in the way.
> 
> (I've heard that the All Out!! manga has recently stopped publishing, so this is also my send off to a wonderful and quirky series that found me some very great friends. Thank you, Shiori Amase, for everything you gave to this story and its characters. It's been a Ride.)
> 
> Big thanks to my big sister for reading through this/threatening to knife me if I didn't finally just post it. You're the best.


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